


The One Thing Missed

by BAdeMorte



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bad Decisions, Drunk Dialing, Drunkenness, F/M, The Holmes Boys Pouting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:37:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1941393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BAdeMorte/pseuds/BAdeMorte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Holmes brothers always miss something in their deductions. With Molly and Anthea the most obvious thing missed is that they're cousins. What happens when the girls try to unwind away from the brothers in Scotland with a lot of whiskey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Bottle of Whiskey and a Pub In Gretna Green

**Author's Note:**

> I blame or give credit of this work to two people. MizJoely because her posting Nonny prompts had this plot bunny full body tackle me. The other is AWriterOfMany, who encouraged me that this was a good idea and that I wasn't nuts for running with this idea...or this idea running away with me. Not sure about that yet. 
> 
> I, of course, own absolutely nothing. Mores the pity.

If anyone in London saw the two women sitting together in a pub, they would have done a double take at the sight. Dr. Molly Hooper and Anthea usually didn't cross paths. It wasn't by design. It was just how things worked out. Just like how no one really knew that Molly and Anthea were cousins, or how both of them were now getting roaring drunk because of the Holmes brothers. 

Arranging the shot glasses in front of them before Anthea grabbed the bottle of whiskey, she brushed some of her long hair from her face, “I swear. If they keep this up, we’re going to need new livers. Still, we can have fun, until then. Did you tell anyone where you went?”

Molly had been focusing on the glasses in front of them. Almost as if she was willing the whiskey to move into them, so she could have a drink. She blinked her large brown eyes, trying to adjust to the smoke that filled the area. 

Biting her lip, she shrugged a slim shoulder, “Mary. She already knows everything. Better yet, she won’t tell anyone. Knowing those two, they won’t even think to ask. Mike just knows that I’m on a mini holiday. He never asks for details. Sherlock is on a case in Wales. So, I don’t have to worry about him popping into Bart’s for anything. I think that’s it on my end. You?”

Anthea shook her head as she poured the whiskey into the glasses, “Nope. Just a request off. Mycroft had to do something out of the country and couldn't take me. Seemed like a perfect time for some family bonding. I’ll be back before his return flight lands. He’ll never know.”

Grabbing her glass, Molly paused before asking, “Have you ever thought about telling them? You know. That we’re cousins?”

Anthea snorted and rolled her eyes as she grabbed her glass, “No. Why should we? They’re the ones that keep saying how clever they are and how they can deduce everything. Not our fault that they didn't figure out that we’re related. I kind of like the idea that we've pulled something over them, even if it was unintentional. So, here’s to being that one thing they've missed.” 

Molly giggled and clinked her glass against Anthea’s before they both downed their shots. Molly shivered, while Anthea slammed the palm of her hand against the table a few times and stomped her foot. After they both took a few breaths, Anthea started pouring again. 

Watching her cousin with a sigh, Molly rested her chin on her hands, “At least you’re important. I’m just the one that supplies body parts and fake deaths. Other than that, I might as well not exist.”

Anthea set the bottle down before she threw her head back laughing, “Are you serious? I’m just the messenger. If I’m not picking up people to take them to ‘mysterious locations’ for Mycroft to question, I’m picking up that man’s pastry order, and that’s not a euphemism. I get the joy of doing this, while texting on my phone 24/7 making sure he doesn't inadvertently start a war that he wasn't planning.” 

Molly blinked a few times and frowned, “How do you inadvertently start a war?”

Thumping her hand on the table after she took another shot, “Whine to the Ambassador of Latvia that he took the last eclair, and then proceed to tell the man why he needed the comfort food more than you. Yeah. I was worried that there would have been a fist fight ending with bombs.”

Molly stared in shock as Anthea took another drink. After a moment or two, she drank her shot, and poured another one. This was repeated a few times. 

It was strange. They had never been really close, being distant cousins and all. It wasn't until Anthea had to bring Molly to one of those ‘mysterious locations’ meeting that they even knew that they both were involved with the Holmes brothers. It didn't take them long to figure out they would need each other to cope. Kinda like a support group of two, where they could vent, worry, and just have someone that understood what they were going through. They were in unique positions. 

The get-togethers had tapered off, while Sherlock had been dismantling Moriarty’s web, but had started to become an almost weekly after he came back from the dead. It seemed the Holmes brothers in the same country became stressful to everyone around them. If they could figure out how they could focus that on the enemies and criminals, everyone would be happy. Unfortunately, neither Molly or Anthea had figured out how to do that yet.

Wrinkling her nose, Molly tugged on the ends of her ponytail, “I’m rather surprised. Mycroft didn't seem like the one to indulge in temper tantrums. At least not while he’s on the job.”

Anthea shrugged as she looked at her drink, “Oh, he usually is pretty good about that. We can blame him trying a new diet for that blip in decorum. He’s like a grumpy bear, when he’s trying to lose weight. YOURS didn't help by sending a diet cookbook with a passive aggressive note. That was a...’not good’ moment as, John would say. I have pictures, if you want to see.” 

Molly giggled a bit more and waved her hand in front of her, “Oh no. Not that I wouldn't find it entertaining, but we both agreed not to touch our phones, while here. We’re suppose to be off the grid. Can’t do that, when you turn on your phone.” 

Anthea leaned back in her chair with a grin, “Please. I made sure to have a clean phone. Even if Mycroft tries to track me, he’s only going to get the phone that’s locked up in my office. Relax, and look at my boss in action. I didn't think a person could shred a 400 page book with their bare hands, but he proved me wrong.” 

With a snicker, Molly took the phone and started to flip through the photos of the eldest Holmes brother having a rather impressive fit. She didn't think she ever seen Sherlock act that bad, and she had seen some doozies. By the last photo both Molly and Anthea were howling with laughter at what they saw. 

With tears in her eyes, she handed the phone back to Anthea, “Lord! I thought I saw everything, until now.”

Taking the phone, while shaking her head, she still chuckled, “Amazing that they’re actually grown men. Still, you have to admit that they’re never boring.”

Molly rolled her eyes and sighed at what she said, “Tell me about it. Do you ever wonder about us? I mean, that maybe there is something wrong with us? Most women go with the nice guy that likes doing silly things with you. I had that with Tom and I was bored out of my mind. I just kept wishing that I could go on more cases with Sherlock. Maybe I need therapy.”

Still smiling, Anthea tucked her phone into her jacket pocket before leaning her arms on the table, “Sherlock asked almost the same thing on that lovely Christmas with Irene. It was right after he identified the body by, as you so eloquently put it,‘not her face’. Mycroft pulled his usual Iceman routine.’ Caring is not an advantage’. That’s what he said. I was so angry that he said that to his brother. I understand -why- he did it, but that was the wrong thing to say.”

Molly knew which Christmas Anthea was talking about. Part of her wanted to forget that night completely. Sherlock had delivered the most humiliating experience in her life and that included unknowingly dating a criminal mastermind who may or may not have been gay. The bright side of that night was that she got a rare apology and a kiss. It was only on the cheek, but she was going to count it. 

She frowned as she asked Anthea, “I don’t get it. What was Mycroft doing? Was he trying to make Sherlock even more emotionally isolated? He’s lucky I didn't hear that. I would have slapped him for saying something so stupid.” 

Anthea choked on her drink and coughed a little. When she could finally breathe, she said, “I would have paid to see that. No matter how inadvisable that would be. Seriously, Molly. When did you become so slap happy?”

When Molly just answered with a shrug, she continued, “I’m sure you've noticed that Sherlock is the most emotionally volatile of the two. Mycroft almost lost him to drugs a few times. Control the emotions and the person will be able to control himself better. That man is completely all or nothing with how he does things. You've witness that yourself many times. What Mycroft fails to realize is that Sherlock needs to learn how to control his emotions. Not shut them off completely. That’s just asking for an explosion that’s equivalent to what Vesuvius did to Pompeii. Soooo not something we need.”

Molly nodded at what she said, while looking down at her glass. Sherlock was a force of nature: volatile and unpredictable. She had been on the receiving end of his mercurial moods many times. Scary part was that he actually trusted her. She would hate to see what he would do to someone that didn't count to him. She was sure that the tattered remains of Moriarty's web could attest to that. 

Sitting up a little straighter, Molly waved her hand in front of herself and said, “Enough serious talk. Let’s talk about something fun. After all, that’s what we’re here for. Not revisiting old business.”

Anthea smirked before taking another shot, “Oh! You want fun, Little Cousin? I think we can do that.”

She tapped her fingers to her lips in thought before she said, “I got it! Let’s talk about secrets. You game?”

Molly bit her lip in thought. Both of them had some interesting secrets. It wouldn't be dull, but it could get uncomfortable pretty fast. Still, they would be uncomfortable together.

Molly nodded after she downed another whiskey, “Fine. I’ll go first. Why did you help Irene? John told me about that pick up.” 

Anthea stilled and then started laughing, “Going in big, I see. Very well. Two reasons really. I thought it would be a good idea to keep a close eye on her. I also knew that Yours wouldn't be able to resist following John, if he thought Mine was trying to tell the doctor something behind his back. Sibling rivalry can be a good thing, if you know how to work it. The second reason is because I had a one off with her. Nothing serious, So, the favor she wrangled from me wasn't that big in nature. The boys won of course.” 

Molly blinked a few times and sipped her next shot. She knew that Anthea was a bit more liberal with her tastes, but she hadn't been expecting that to be a reason. Her cousin rarely mixed business with her personal life. 

Finishing her drink, she leaned forward and almost whispered; "Was she worth it? Mine never talks about her. John would just say that she was intriguing. Was she, or was it John's tendency to romanticize things? "

Licking her lips, Anthea answered, "She does seem to have that whole mysterious and sexy vibe down to an art form. Still, once you realize that she's always playing some angle, it gets old fast. Not surprised that Yours never talks about her. She did make him a proper fool for a short time. He probably thinks of her as some exotic creature that makes the world more magical by roaming the earth. You know. Like a snow leopard. Lovely to think about, but not something you want to cuddle up to."

Anthea took a quick drink before she leaned over with a wicked grin," Now! My turn, Little Cousin. Did you ever realize that Meat Dagger had an eerie resemblance to a certain pain in your arse?"

Molly groaned and facepalmed at that question. Surprisingly, it was the first time anyone asked her that question. With a sigh she said, "Not at first. The first few times we met were poorly lit pubs that some of my friends dragged me to for more socializing. By the time I got a good clear look at him it was too late. I liked him and I didn't think that HE would come crashing back into my life. Should have known better.The universe seems to get a kick out of throwing the oddest things my way, when I think my life has finally smoothed out. "

Anthea chuckled a little bit at that. Still grinning, "Only you could land yourself in such a situation. He was -so- boring though. How did you stay awake with him just babble about the dullest things? At least Moriarty had an interesting personality."

A pained and embarrassed look crossed her face, when she realized she said -that- name. Even though the last Moriarty scare had been a crime boss trying to cash in on the dead criminal consultant's reputation, it still left Molly more than a bit nervous. Anthea didn’t blame her one bit. 

She whispered, “Sorry. Slipped my mind. Still, I will say that I was surprised that your own personal wrecking ball didn't deduce him within an inch of his life. That was a bit unusual for him. Maybe he’s finally started growing up. Of course, if he did deduce Meat Dagger until the man left screaming, a lot of headaches could have been avoid. Maybe.”

Molly snorted, “Yeah. I could see it. Those headaches would have been avoided and he would have found a whole new collection of headaches for us. He has a gift for that. Still, I think you’re right. He has grown more since he came back. He use to be such a raw wire of energy. Now, he seems more in control of himself…..unless someone asks him to do a speech. I’m pretty happy with the fact that he most likely won’t be going to anymore weddings in the near future.”

Both women smiled at the memory of Sherlock’s best man speech that somehow ended with him saving a man’s life and solving two cases that were oddly linked. Anthea always thought that the man should be bubble wrapped for not only his safety, but for those around him. The man sure knew how to attract trouble. Surprisingly, her little cousin seemed to prefer him that way. 

Taking another shot, Molly piped up, “Okay. Let’s go with something really big. What do you want more than anything else from Yours?” 

Anthea opened her mouth and closed it a few times. She was tempted to lie, but decided against it. If she couldn't be honest with Molly, she might as well pack up and go home.

Taking a deep breath and trying to not blush, she answered simply, “To be dessert.”

Molly looked at her cousin wide eyed and sputtered a bit, “Wait! What?! You….you actually think of him…..-that- way?’

She was rather amazed at Anthea. She never gave any hints at all their get togethers that she might have felt that way about Mycroft. It was kind of like seeing your favorite celebrity or one of the Royals on the Tube. Unexpected and a little bizarre. 

Anthea downed another shot before answering, “Yeah. I just hide it well. Less awkward that way. Not like you can judge. You asked a man out after he used a riding crop on a corpse. Seriously. What about that situation made you think that you needed to have a go with him?” 

It was now Molly’s turn to be slacked jawed and blushed. She had never been good at hiding her feeling or reactions. This actually helped Molly to win at cards because no one could believe that someone could be that bad of a liar. Anthea knew better. 

She started laughing as Molly turned a deep red, “Oh, my god! The saying is true. It’s always the quiet ones. I would never would have thought it of you.” 

Molly huffed a little as she rolled her eyes, “Like you have any ground to stand on. I can’t believe you have a food kink. Not that I think you’re prim in the bedroom, but that just sounds too messy.”

Anthea gave a playful smirk, “Trust me. If you have the right partner, you’re not messy for long. Okay. We are waaaay to sober. I can still see straight.”

Molly gave a light giggle before she downed her shot, “My drink is broke. Please fix it.”

Anthea smile as she poured more shots. It was time to get seriously drunk and forget about the Holmes boys for the rest of the night.


	2. Best Laid Plans Mean Nothing When The Holmes Brothers Are Involved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Sherlock discovers something odd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am -so- sorry this took so long. I started to panic when I realized that I was going to write Mycroft for the first time. He's the only one I haven't ever tried to write out of this gang. It's not much, but I hope it's worth the wait.

Sherlock tended to get frustrated when things didn’t go as he expected them to go. That is why one makes plans. So, one knows what to expect. Without plans everything just become chaos. 

Because things didn’t go as he had planned, he was now bored at Baker Street instead of on a case in Wales. It seemed what had promised to be a 9 turned out to only be a 4. Even Anderson would have been able to figure it out. The world was full of idiots that couldn’t observe what was in front of them. How can they live their lives being so blind? Sherlock was happy that he never had to find out. Sounded tedious. 

Speaking of tedious. He was feeling bored. Everyone knew that Sherlock bored was a bad thing. Just ask the poor wall at Baker Street. He was much better after the Fall. Wasn’t always bursting with energy. Two years taking down a criminal mastermind’s network works wonders for learning self control. Not that he was perfect at it. Still, he was better...usually. 

He mentally ticked off things he could do to alleviate the boredom. Visit John and Mary? No. John might slam the door in his face, if he showed up at their home. Sherlock learned after last time John and him went more than a few days away from London that one should not disturb the Watsons during their reunion period. Although, he was glad to see that the reconciliation was going well. 

See if Lestrade had a case? No. Gervase already texted him that all was quiet in that area. Why do criminals have to take a holiday at the most inconvenient times? It was rather annoying. Still, nothing to be done about that. 

His eyes lit up as his mind came to another name, “I’ll go to Bart’s and see if Molly Hooper has anything for me. Brilliant!”

Yes! This was the perfect solution. She was clever enough to always come up with something for him, even if there isn’t an interesting corpse. (He was really hoping for an interesting corpse though.) If nothing else, she’d listen to how horrible the case in Wales was botched. (Seriously? Is Gawin the only competent detective inspector?) 

With the decision made, he quickly went to St. Bart’s almost giddy at the idea of at least having some clever conversations. The most, he and Molly Hooper get to go over a fascinating dead body. What could go wrong? 

ooooo

 

He looked at Mike Stamford with a look of absolute confusion on his face. Anyone that knew Sherlock would know that was rare. Not to say that the consulting detective didn’t get confuse. It was just very rare and he usually didn’t show it so openly. He was so confused that he had the man repeat was he just said twice. 

It seemed that Dr. Molly Hooper was on holiday. Sherlock tried to wrap his mind around this and was failing. In all the time that he had known Molly Hooper, she had never once went on a holiday that he knew about. This was irritating. It was puzzling…...it was a case! 

A smile curved his lips as the idea came to mind. This was better than a corpse. Leave it to the petite pathologist to do something to keep him from being bored without even trying to do so. He abruptly left, leaving a confused Mike. Of course, the man just shrugged it off as typical Sherlock behavior and went back to his work. 

Outside, Sherlock went over what to do first. Of course, he texted Molly. Didn’t want to waste time, if she was just at her flat watching the telly. He did make his way towards her home while he was texting her. If she was there, he could try and get her to help with experiments. Anything was better than that show Glee that she seems to love so much. 

In no time he was looking around her place and feeling even more confused. She wasn’t here and she wasn’t answering her text. She always answered her texts. Well, there was that one time, but that was an abnormality. Seems she was in the shower. That had been…..awkward.

He smirked as he texted Mycroft’s office to get a hold of Molly’s security detail. His brother had made sure she was being watched years ago. They would know where she was at. Some might call that cheating. He called it utilizing all of your resources. 

A few minutes later he was really starting to panic. Somehow Molly didn't have a security detail on her. This wasn't good. Not at all. As various situations ran through his mind, he called his brother. He so hated doing that. 

After the second ring, he started talking, "Would you care to explain why my pathologist doesn't have any security detail, Brother mine?"

The voice answered quickly, "It probably is the same reason why my PA has disappeared. Considering that they both have vanished at the same time." 

Sherlock frowned, “How is that possible? Your PA is practically attached to your hip. How could anyone get their hands on her?”

Mycroft replied, “I had a little thing in the Middle East that needed taken care of. I thought it prudent to leave Anthea here after the last time. It was not as dire as the reports made it out to be. Just arrived a few hours ago to no PA. Seems she took a leave of absence. Highly irregular of her.”

Making a snap decision, Sherlock said, “I’m coming over. We need to figure this out and quickly.”

Before Sherlock hung up, he heard Mycroft say, “I quite agree, Brother Mine. I quite agree.”


	3. Comedic Timing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John witnesses something rather rare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to AWriterofMany for being a rocking beta.

He had to admit that this was one of the strangest things he had ever seen, and that was saying something. John Watson’s version of normal was what most people considered strange since he came back from Afghanistan and met Sherlock Holmes. Oh yes, normal was a relative term to him now.

 

And so instead of spending time with his very pregnant wife, he was watching the Holmes brothers reenact their childhood. It hadn’t gotten to the hair pulling and name calling yet, but it was close. It was a bit like one of those bizarre animal documentaries. You kind of wanted to turn it off, but seemed unable to do so.

   
It had all started with his mobile going off incessantly. He had glanced at it and saw that they were all from Sherlock. John wanted to ignore them. Here he was comfortably lying next to Mary and wanting to sleep. It was seeing that Sherlock was panicking over Molly somehow being missing that was the only reason he didn’t chuck the phone across the room. 

He liked Molly Hooper. The woman was a saint for dealing with the prat. On top of that Sherlock never panicked over Molly. If the consulting detective was having a freak out because he can’t find the petite pathologist then it was something to take note. 

Since Mary was asleep John wrote a note to tell her where he was going, not wanting her to worry. He then quickly caught a cab, all the while responding to Sherlock’s myriad of rapid-fire, every five seconds texts questioning if he was there yet with “No!” 

Now, here he was sitting in his chair watching Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes standing toe to toe. This part was pretty normal, however it was a bit odd that they both were blaming each other for whatever it was that had happened. They still hadn’t told him anything other than the fact that “they” were missing. John knew one of these mysterious they was in fact Molly Hooper. He just hadn’t been informed as to who the other one was yet. 

Looking at the time on his mobile, he sighed and decided to take matters into his own hands. Tucking two fingers into his mouth, he whistled loudly. Both men immediately stopped arguing with each other and looked at him in confusion. 

With an annoyed expression on his face he huffed. “Now that I have your attention does anyone want to tell me what the bloody hell is going on? I’ve gathered from the frantic flurry of texts that Molly is missing, so who is this other person and what do we know?”

If Sherlock had dragged him out of bed because Molly was off having a fling somewhere, he was going to kill him. Then, after disposing of the body, he would text Molly his congratulations and tell her to take her time. 

He watched then as both men straightened themselves up and flashed each other awkward looks. Oh! Now this was going to be good. John had never seen both of them look nervous, especially at the same time. Usually, it was one or the other. He sat back and got comfortable, waiting.

Sherlock straightened his jacket before saying, “Well, as you know, Molly Hooper has disappeared. She supposedly put in for holiday time and vanished. At this same time Anthea, Mycroft’s PA, also left on her own leave apparently.” He paused, staring at John as if the reason for both men’s distress was apparent. “They’ve just disappeared John.”

The urge to shout or throw a shoe at his friend was very tempting. That he was able to resist it just showed that John had near saint-like self-control. That didn’t mean he didn’t give both of them his best ‘You’re shitting me’ look. 

 When he finally felt he could talk without shouting, he said, “You dragged me out of bed simply because Molly and Mycroft’s PA decided they needed a break from you two wanks? You know! I don’t blame them. Good for them. Maybe they’ll actually have some fun without you two ruining it for them.”

Mycroft stared at him while Sherlock rolled his eyes and said, “I don’t care if Molly Hooper went on holiday. She could go and visit Prague for all I care.”

Mycroft cleared his throat and said, “However that would not be advisable for the next week or two. There will be an incident soon, and it might take some time for it to settle. Going there now would be rather…ill-advised.”

John just started at the British Government and wondered how much trouble he would get into, if he chucked a book at him. He would make sure it was a small book. A paperback even. Just something to get a big reaction from the man. 

Sherlock continued, “STILL! It is not that Molly Hooper went on holiday that worries me. Even though that in itself is rather odd. She never goes on holiday. Barely calls in sick. No! What has me worried is the fact that her security detail wasn’t replaced as it usually is after a cycle. The same goes for Anthea. Both woman without their detail, now gone. Obviously something has happened and both women are missing.”

Okay John could see Sherlock’s point. Mycroft had eyes on everyone that was important to both he and Sherlock. With the trouble those two attract, it was a necessity of life for the Holmes brothers. However he still wasn’t buying this. Maybe the women had just decided to have a wild weekend. After all, Sherlock and Mycroft weren’t supposed to have come home till later.   
   
Holding his hands up, he said, “Here’s a thought. It might be a bit odd, but it is a thought. They could be together. If that’s true, Anthea is more than enough security for Molly.”

They both just gave him the trademark confused Holmes look. He usually saw it when he was telling Sherlock something was a bit not good. Like when he deduced Molly’s boyfriend in front of her and had announced that the bloke was gay. (Totally missed the psychopathic tendencies, but even Sherlock misses’ one thing now and again.) He didn’t know what he could say to make them understand. Maybe flashcards or some other visual aid would help. 

 While trying to figure out what to do, two things happened. John got a text from Mary asking him what trouble Sherlock had gotten himself into this time. The other thing was that Sherlock got an unlisted call that quickly hung up before he could answer. 

John quickly texted Mary the details about what was happening. Not even three seconds after he hit send, she was calling him. She probably had a theory herself. Hopefully, the two gits in front of him would listen to her.

Just as John said hello, Sherlock got yet another unlisted call. He was quicker this time and was able to press the answer button before whoever it was hung up. Not in a million years could he have expected to hear what he did next. 

An obvious drunk woman was shouting, “OH MY GOD!! LOOOOOOOOK, Gertrude! SHEEEEEP! I’m going to cuddle one. Yes, I am. OOOO! There’s one that reminds me of my Sssser-sssser-. Ummm Locky!”

There was some movement and even more grumbling. Then there was what sounded like some rather upset sheep. 

Then a second woman, obviously just as drunk was answering, “DON’T CALL ME THAT, CUZ! I hate that name. Why do you think I go by my middle name? Makes me sound like a spinster aunt.”

There was more grumbling and movement before they heard Gertrude ‘Don’t call me that’ say, “I swear. You would be the one to pick out the only anti-social sheep in the flock to cuddle, Mols. Is this some kind bizarre superpower of yours?”

They heard the apparently sheep cuddling Mols huff. “Oh yeah. Like -you- can talk. You want to have cake with the Iceman…..or was that be cake? Everything is so fuzzy...”

Right after that, the connection was lost, and John was treated to a few things while trying to keep a straight face and failing miserably. First, he got to see the unflappable Mycroft ‘I Have Only A Minor Position, But I Really Run the Government’ Holmes look like he had just got sucker punched. Second, he saw Sherlock ‘Emotions Are Just Human Error’ Holmes look like a five year old being told that not only was the guy in the red suit he saw kissing his mother wasn’t Santa Claus, but there was no such thing as the jolly old elf. The third and final thing that made him almost lose it was his wife on the phone laughing like a howler monkey, and trying to tell them between laughs that they needed to come over so she could tell them where Molly and Anthea were. Not like the sheep weren’t a big clue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments. I love comments.


	4. Sometimes the Hangover Is the Best Part of the Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Anthea wake up and find out a few things. The Holmes brothers get another shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still own nothing. Dang it!

Molly blinked and groaned in pain. She hadn't been in this much pain, since she had over indulged on the vodka in her Uni days. That was a night to remember. Unlike now. She couldn't really remember last night. Why Anthea thought that downing a bottle of whiskey was a good idea, she never know.

 

Keeping her eyes shut tightly, she tried to focus on last night. It was a bit of a blur, but she remembered a few things. The fact that both of them knew each other’s sexual proclivities kind of made Molly cringe. There were some things that family shouldn't know about each other, even distant cousins.

 

She was also a bit confused as to why she was remembering sheep. It could have been an odd dream. Alcohol did that to her. They were usually amusing, but her dreaming about sheep was just strange. Of course, it beat the one dream where John and Greg were leprechauns trying to get Sherlock to dance a jig. She didn't want to dwell on that one. It was too weird.

 

Something bumping against her brought her out of her musings. Cracking an eye open, she saw that it was Anthea. Seemed that her cousin was still asleep. Lucky her. Molly would love to go back to sleep. Anything was better than her head pounding and the taste of death in her mouth. That and feeling like she crawled through a peat bog didn't help matters.

 

Hearing a giggle gave Molly pause. She knew that Anthea wasn't the giggler. In fact she recognized that giggle very well. While opening her eyes again, she was hoping that she was wrong. It wouldn't be the first time that she heard things the day after. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

 

At the foot of the bed was a smiling Mary Watson saying, “Boy are you two in trouble!”

 

Molly starting repeatedly elbowing her cousin while mentally screaming to herself, “OH CRAP! THEY KNOW! WE ARE SO FUCKED!”

 

Anthea rolled over with a groan, “What the bloody hell! I'm trying to sleep here, Mols. Can't it wait?”

 

Mary piped up, “Nope! I give you two about ten minutes before the boys come in with their questions. And do they have some questions. I can't believe that it's taken them this long to find out. Of course to be fair, you two have been rather clever in covering your tracks. Too bad they came back earlier than scheduled.”

 

Molly just looked at Mary in horror as Anthea plopped back onto the bed with a groan, “This is -not- good. So -not- good. As in the complete opposite of good. We're fucked.”

 

Molly couldn't help but agree with Anthea. The one thing that the Holmes brothers hated was not knowing. It wouldn't surprise Molly, if they took this as a personal insult. She couldn't help but think of how many ways Sherlock was going to make her life a living hell now. She didn't even want to think of what Mycroft was going to do to her cousin.

 

Molly was debating on if it was really bad to wish Moriarty back to life, when she heard Anthea ask, “How bad is it?”

 

Mary shrugged and said, “Not quite sure. A bit hard to gauge. It wasn't the most ideal way for them to find out. The two of them panicking because they thought you two had been kidnapped. Then the phone call. Seriously Molly! Why did you think it was a good idea to crawl into a pit and cuddle a sheep? A bad temper one at that. One of the men had his trousers ripped trying to get to you. Finally, Sherlock had to crawl in after you. Guess the sheep figured that Sherlock was meaner.”

 

Both women went slacked jawed at that. Mr. Sherlock “I Wear Perfectly Tailored Trousers So I Don't Need a Belt” Holmes crawled into a sheep pit to get Molly. They couldn't picture it. Not that he has been a mess before. It was just that those were for cases. (To be fair having to solve a case by harpooning a pig was a surprise to everyone.) This was not a case. This was a situation of two drunk women in Scotland.

 

Anthea responded first, “Oh, he so could not have been pleased by that.”

 

Mary giggled, “Nope. He was a right mess when it was all done. The sheep seemed pretty put out as well. At least they didn't have to crawl into a pit to get you. Just had to shove another sheep out of the way. My! He was a fluffy one!”

 

Molly blinked a few times and turned to Anthea, “You were cuddling a fat sheep? Wait! What phone call? We didn't call anyone.”

 

Mary grinned, “You should be careful where you put your phone. It seems that while you were trying to get to your ill-tempered sheep, you pocket dialed Sherlock...twice. The boys, John, and I got quite the show. Of course Sherlock and Mycroft didn't see the humor in it. John, on the other hand, will be feasting on this for years. I -might- have made things worse by laughing. In my defense, it was hilarious.”

 

Both women flopped back on the bed and groaned. Of course in stressful situations it has been known that family members could responded similarly. This seemed to be the case with Molly and Anthea. They both were going over in their minds what countries they could run to and avoid this fall out. They also realized at the same time that they were doomed and that escape was futile. The Holmes bothers would follow them just to make their displeasure known. They were both screwed and not in the happy pleasant way.

 

A knock on the door interrupt the little heart to heart and soon John peeked it, “Well, I hope Mary has caught you two up on the situation. It seems you're being summoned. Seriously, I don't know what all the fuss is about, but you know those two drama queens. Always have to make a production. Come on. It will be better to get this over with quickly.”

 

Molly knew that he was right. Still didn't mean that she wanted to do this. She rather run starkers down the corridors of St. Bart's than do this. The look on Anthea's face confirmed that she felt the same way. Both women staggered out of bed and started to move towards the door. It also seemed that they were still fully dressed from last night, including shoes and mud. This just got better and better.

OOOOO

 

Molly was feeling confused. She was certain that she had graduated school. Yet, here she was feeling like she was at the principal's office. Not that she knew how that felt. She never gave the teachers any reason to send her to the office. Of course, if she had Mycroft or Sherlock for principals, she was certain that Bobby Newman's pranking career would have been short lived.

 

Both men stood ramrod straight and looked completely put together. Seems they had a chance to get cleaned up. Their neat appearances just made Molly feel even more grungy and exhausted. It just wasn't fair. Why did they get to look so perfect? It also wasn't fair that she and Anthea were being called onto the carpet. They didn't do anything wrong. They were grown women. They could do as they pleased. No laws were broken. Well....maybe trespassing with the sheep, but nothing was harmed.

 

Anthea rubbed her face and groaned, “Well, we're here. Now what?”

 

Leave it to her cousin to get right to the point. Molly didn't want to get to the point. She wanted to go back to bed and forget that this had ever happened. The look that both Holmes brothers had pretty much guaranteed that her wish was a long shot. She decided that it was prudent to keep her mouth shut. Let them get this over with and move on.

 

While looking down at a phone, Sherlock said, “I have to commend you on your photography skills, Anthea. You truly missed your calling.”

 

Both looked up to see Sherlock holding the phone. They could clearly see one of the pictures of Mycroft having a fit on the screen. It seemed that things went from bad to worse. Molly didn't know if she should say anything or not. She could make things worse. Glancing at Anthea, she decided to see what her cousin would do, and go from there.

 

Anthea leaned back and rolled her eyes, “You have worse than that and you know it. So, don't even try to judge. I've seen both of your stashes of baby pictures. So, you want to move this along? I really would like to take a shower and go back to bed. Rough night.”

 

Molly didn't know if she wanted to applauded or hit her cousin. She was certainly being brave, or foolish. Depends on how a person saw things. Molly looked back at the men to see how they took this and decided that she wished that she hadn't. They were not pleased at all by this. Maybe acting scared would have been better. Too late now.

 

Mycroft grabbed the phone and placed it in his pocket, “Well, yes. We can move on from this situation and confront a bigger one. You blatantly dismissed Dr. Hooper's security detail as well as your own. If that wasn't enough, you also went against protocol by not informing any of the proper channels of your location. Thus almost causing a national incident. What do you two have to say for yourselves?”

 

Both showed that they were related yet again with their reactions of, “Pffft. Yeah. Right.” 

 

Molly could tell by their reactions that the Holmes brothers were not expecting that. Well good. Serves them right. Anthea and she were both tired and cranky. She was also pretty sure that she didn't just have mud on her clothes. It was amazing how clear a person could see things while experiencing a pounding headache.

 

Before the two men could go on another vein of annoyance, Molly sighed, “We were perfectly fine. No master criminals or drug lords tried to hurt us. Only thing bruised is my behind. So, can we go? I'm pretty sure that this is not just peat on my jeans. Unless you two want to wait until the smell finds its way over there.”

 

The bothers both raised their brows in surprise. It was a rather funny sight. They looked like to fishes trying to gasp for breath. Molly decided that she had to remember to mark this down on the calendar. The headache was putting a damper on her enjoyment. Deciding she had enough, she nudged Anthea and got up. Giving the men a halfhearted wave, she left the room. Her cousin wasn't that far behind.

When Anthea caught up with her, she mumbled to Molly, “I can't believe the best part of that meeting was the hangover.”

 

Molly agreed. She was still worried. She knew Sherlock. This wasn't the end of this subject. Not just her arse was bruised. If she knew anything about the Holmes brothers, they were good at not letting things go. Nope! This was far from over. Hopefully act two wouldn't start until she had gotten a shower and more sleep.


	5. Peter Pan Didn’t Go Back To Neverland. He Lives On Baker Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Mycroft didn't take it so well. Now, the rest of the group is trying to figure out what to do to get them to grow up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to update. My beta AWriterOfMany and I started new jobs recently. Both of us are trying to figure out our schedules and stuff. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

John glared as he mumbled to Mary, “If you want to shoot him again, I won’t be angry. Promise.”

She didn’t even lower her book as she answered, “You don’t mean that. You’ll miss him. We both would. Also, I think Molly might be upset, if I did that. Couldn’t you just punch him in the mouth again?”

Flopping into the chair next to her, he huffed, “I don’t think it would make a dent. With the way he’s acting, you would have thought we had found the women having a torrid affair with Adler and Moriarty. He’s shooting the walls again. Poor Mrs. Hudson practically ran to her sister in Leeds. It’s getting beyond ridiculous.”

Mary lowered the book and watched her husband as he was yanking at his hair, “Well, I’m not surprised that he’s avoiding Bart’s and a certain pathologist. You know how he is. He hates that something like all this slipped past him, and for so long. They’ve known each other for what? Seven years? That’s a long time to miss something so important. To top it off, he found out not because she told him, but because he came home early and was drunk dialed. That has to be chafing at his pride. Just give him some time. I’m sure he’ll snap out of it when a case requires him to go to the hospital.”

John sighed, “That’s going to be a problem. He’s not taking any more cases. At least not ones that have dead bodies attached to them. Greg is threatening to send Donovan to talk to him. We don’t need that. If he’s being a git now, after she’s done with him, he’ll be downright impossible.”

Mary was rather surprised to hear that Sherlock wasn’t taking any big cases. He must indeed be upset, if he was avoiding his favorite types of cases. From how John was acting and what he was saying, something had to give soon, or London was going to be dealing with Mt. Holmes, and there wouldn’t be many survivors with the aftermath of that explosion.

Rubbing her very pregnant belly, she said, “Well, we don’t need that one adding fuel to the fire. One of these days we have to find out what happened there. There’s too much animosity for it to be Sherlock being his usual charming self, but that’s for another day. Molly hasn’t said much to me. That’s to be expected though. She always keeps things close. Probably one of the many reasons why he chose her for a confidant. Have you talk to Anthea?”

He shook his head. They have been living in a strange reality, since that night in Scotland. It had been a bloody month had his best friend was still being an arse about things. John had tried talking to him about it, but the stubborn man would just either talk about something else, or do that creepy blank stare, until John left.

He had checked on Molly, but that made him more frustrated. She had that sad, wounded look. Something he hadn’t seen, since before the Fall. Of course Molly being Molly, tried to keep a stiff upper lip once she realized that he was there. Each time he visited, it was like watching hope die. It was bloody awful to witness. He wasn’t brave enough to ask about Anthea. If Sherlock was being such a wanker towards Molly, he hated to think what the “Iceman” had done to his PA. Fortunately, he hadn’t heard of any wars popping up. So, that was probably good news. Maybe.

Mary interrupted his thoughts, “If Molly hasn’t said anything about Anthea, that eliminates the possibility of her being shipped out for an assignment. At least we don’t have to worry about that for now. I might invite them over for tea. Can’t really go anywhere, until the baby comes. Also, they probably talk to me. No offense dear, but you belong to the enemy camp right now. They might not feel comfortable talking with you around."

He didn’t take any offense at what she said. He shrugged, “As long as you think it might help. Can’t have Mrs. Hudson moving to Leeds. England might fall, if she does. Also, I hate seeing Molly like this. She’s a great person, who somehow has been able to deal with the world’s biggest toddler. I would like to see her have some happiness. Maybe I could set her up with Greg. He’s free now that the divorce is final.”

Mary giggled, “You can try, but I don’t think it will go over well. Those two have always been just friends, even if he does appreciate her figure from time to time. Also, it would aggravate the problem we have now even more. Or did you want Sherlock to lose it completely? The man maybe pouting at the moment, but he’s all but laid claim to Molly. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tattooed his name on her with invisible ink. He is a wee bit possessive of her.”

Arching a brow, he snorted, “I think more than just a wee bit. Maybe her dating someone would knock him out of this? He can’t help poking his nose into her business, when there is a potential boyfriend. If he hears that Greg and Molly are stepping out together, he might stop shooting the walls and…...Okay. That might be a bad idea.”

Patting his hand, she said, “Let me talk to the girls and see what’s been going on at their end. We can decide what steps to take after that. Just try to get Sherlock to go out on cases again. Volunteer to go to Bart’s for him. That will at least keep Greg from doing something we will all regret. If it gets too bad, we can always call their Mummy.”

John went a little wide eyed at Mary’s last suggestion. He never thought about calling Sherlock’s mom. It was like breaking the best mate’s code or something. He was really hoping that this would all be put to right before they had to resort to that. 

 

OOOO

NO!” the lieutenant glared at her boss. Not believing what he just asked.

Lestrade all but whined, “Why not? I know he’s not your favorite person, but even you have to admit that we need him. Just talk to him.”

Sally Donovan was many things, but a messenger wasn’t one of them. Especially not for Sherlock Bloody Holmes. Why her boss thought she would agree to this confused her. Why not Anderson? He was the president of the Sherlock fan club. She would probably punch the smug bastard in the mouth and make things worse.

Eyeing him, she asked, “Why me? You’re the one that usually talks to him, when he’s asking like this. Even better, why not John or that pathologist? They always seem to be able to talk sense into him. I’m the last person you should be asking. He would prefer Moriarty’s talking corpse before me. I’m just going to make it worse. You have to know that.”

He fidgeted for a moment before he said, “He’s not listening to John and it’s about Molly. Seems he found out in an awkward way that she’s related to his brother’s PA. Sherlock isn’t taking it very well. I just thought that it would be good if a neutral party talked to him. You’re a neutral party. He knows that you don’t have a hidden agenda. If you go, he might actually listen to you. Please?! For the future of law enforcement, do this one little thing.”

She blinked a few times at what he said. This was so wrong on so many levels. Lestrade wasn’t one to beg another person for something. He usually tackled it himself or brushed it aside with some asinine comment like ‘Not my division’. Also, he usually could talk some sense into Sherlock. It was no secret that there was bad blood between her and Sherlock. They had agreed on an unspoken truce, when he came back from the dead. Still didn’t mean that they were going to grab a pint anytime soon.

Finally, something clicked for her, “Wait! He didn’t know that Hooper and the PA were cousins? How could he miss that? I thought everyone knew. No wonder he’s out of sorts.”

He looked at her in shock and almost shouted, “How the bloody hell did you know? I didn’t even know!”

She started laughing, “I came up on them one time and the PA called Hooper ‘Little Cousin’. Didn’t think anything of it. I just thought it was common knowledge. How was I supposed to know that I stumbled on some big secret? I’m going to need a moment to relish this. I knew something before the great Sherlock Holmes.”

Lestrade frowned for a moment, before he tried to speak. Every time he did, she would raise a finger and started laughing harder. This situation was irritating him more and more. After a few more minutes of this and him rolling his eyes, she calmed down.

Completely serious, she said, “It’s still a very bad idea. We should consider other options before sending me over. There are other other options, you know. Try John’s wife. I’m sure she can think of something. I’m just gasoline. You want the fire out. Not out of control.”

Slumping in his chair, he sighed, “Fine. You talk to Mary and see what she can do.”

In frustration, she asked, “Why am -I- asking her? I’m not your messenger. If you don’t have a spine to ask a woman to talk to someone, you shouldn’t be working here.”

He cringed at what she said, “I just thought that since you’re a woman…...I should shut up now. Shouldn’t I?”

With a look and a nod, she said, “That would be very wise. Talk to Mrs. Watson. I’m sure she already has a plan. The less I’m in this, the better. Let me know how it goes.”

As she walked out the door, he shouted, “No Christmas card for you this year! I mean it!”

All he could think was that he really missed the time, when Sherlock would be bugging him for a case. Why couldn’t they go back to that? It wasn’t as stressful as this situation. He decided that he would eat another doughnut or two before he focused on the problem that was Sherlock Holmes.


	6. Not Your Mummy’s Tea Party, Unless You Are Winston Churchill.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary has a chat with the women while John contemplates homicide.

It took a few days for Mary to setup a time to have tea with Molly and Anthea. Strangely enough, it was John who was the biggest problem. It seemed that Sherlock had become such a pain in the arse that his best mate didn’t want to deal with him. John kept mumbling something about moving target practice. Mary didn’t know if John was the moving target or Sherlock. Either way, this needed to be fixed.  
   
 After shooing John out of the house and calling the girls, she waited. There really wasn’t much else to do. Hopefully, John and Greg could get Sherlock out of the flat. Poor Mrs. Hudson’s nerves were shot with how things were now. Not even her herbal soothers helped.  
             
 Not long after Molly and Anthea arrived with gift baskets and chocolate. This whole thing might not get fixed but at least she’d have some goodies to enjoy. That was a win in her opinion. Looking at the cousins (It was still strange that Mycroft missed that little tidbit.), she noticed that they both were tired and worn. This was more than a bit not good. She should have invited them over much sooner.  
   
As they settled in, she said, “So, I see that they both are acting bratty. I would think that they would have gotten over their pouting by now.”  
   
There was no need to be coy. Everyone knew what was going on. Mary was even fairly sure that the Queen knew what was going on. And if the Queen knew, it was bad indeed.  
   
Anthea shrugged, “I either get sent home without reason, or get a call in the middle of the night. Four agent have either quit or asked for reassignment. It was really fun, when the bakery that usually handles Mycroft’s orders called me crying at 3 in the morning. Seems he had a late night craving for marzipan.”  
   
Mary looked at the woman in awe. She had seen many things, but she never saw anyone act so calm over something so brattish. She thought they were going to have to worry about how Sherlock acted towards Molly. Seems she underestimated Mycroft’s ability to act childish.  
   
Molly chimed in with a sigh, “He hasn’t started any wars. Has he?”  
   
While Anthea was confirming that no wars have been started, (Seems the little incident in Prague didn’t count because it had already been in the works.) Mary was looking at both women rather clearly for the first time. It was rather fascinating. Most tended to dismiss these two women. Even Moritarty had underestimated their importance. Mary felt it was time that the boys understood how important these women were to them. The tricky part was how to do this. They might have missed how Molly and Anthea were connected, but surely they would notice if someone was trying to trick them into something.  
   
“And now we are to the point where Sherlock sends John to the lab and orders me through text. After he started to try and insult me through the poor man, I just grabbed the mobile and texted him to either text me directly or he wouldn’t get the liver. John was thrilled by that. He never did get the liver,” Molly finished with a sigh.  
   
Mary blinked at that. If Sherlock was turning down body parts to avoid contact with Molly, then this had definitely gone on for far too long.  It was time to get very creative indeed.  
   
With a bright grin, “I guess me going into labor wouldn’t help matters.”  
   
Both women looked at the blonde. They couldn’t tell if she was teasing or not. It was often hard to tell with her. A smile meant nothing. They would joke that Mary would be the kind of woman that would cuss through labor with a playful smirk on her face.  
   
Busting out in a giggle, “I don’t mean now. I still have a few weeks left. At least that’s what the doctor keeps on insisting.”  
   
Looking down at her rather large belly, “I am starting to think that I’ll will be pregnant forever. They keep assuring me that this is not true. Probably trying to placate me. So I don’t hurt them or something like that.”  
   
Anthea looked awkward as Molly chimed in, “It only seems that way because you are nearing the end and just want to get it over with. Perfectly natural.”  
Mary didn’t think it was perfectly natural. She was starting to think that pregnancy was a form of torture. She had a feeling that if it could be implemented, the world would be a different place indeed.  
   
Deciding that they needed to get back on task, “Righty O! We need to put a stop to this. Since the little one isn’t being cooperative and popping out anytime soon, we need to think of a Plan B. Good thing I can be rather slick with a plan.”  
   
Both Molly and Anthea gave each other a look. That was the understatement of the century. The blonde that sat before them completely fooled Sherlock at one time. Neither of them knew if she had fooled Mycroft. No one was brave enough to ask that particular question.  
   
Clapping her hands together, Mary shouted, “I got it! How do you both feel about going back to Scotland?”   
   
Molly and Anthea weren’t exactly thrilled about going back to Scotland, but what did they have to lose.  
   
  ooOOOoo  
   
   
While the women were having a rather interesting tea party, John was tempted to use his gun on his best mate. Contemplating homicide on a daily bases does not a healthy friendship make.  Giving Greg a quick look, he could tell that he wasn’t alone in that thought.  
   
To be fair Greg should have known that bring up Molly even connected in a professional mode would be a bit not good. The poor, poor wall. Why Sherlock felt the need to shoot that damn wall every time he was throwing a fit was a mystery. Wait! Where did the bloody wank get a gun?  
   
Frowning, “Sherlock? How did you get my gun?”  
   
The consulting detective said nothing. Just flopped in his chair and ignored both men. This was getting annoying. Granted, it had been a rhetorical question, but he usually acknowledged such things with an insult.  
   
Lestrade cleared his throat, “Want to come down to the Yard? I am sure we can find you a nice murder. I know! You can bug Donovan. You enjoy that. Yeah?”  
   
POP! Another shot was fired into the wall. This wasn’t getting them anywhere.  
   
John reached out at grabbed the gun from Sherlock, “Quit that! I knew that you were a prat, but this is a new level of annoyance even for you.  If you’re not going to talk to Molly, then find a case. You’ll feel better. Just do something before I murder you.”  
   
It might not be the kindest way of saying something, but kindness wasn’t getting them anywhere. He had never seen Sherlock like this. Not even with that Adler woman.  
   
John continued, “Why this is even bothering? You always said that you miss something. Accept it. You missed one thing about Molly.”  
   
Sherlock just glared at his friend before getting up and stomping off into his room. The sounds of the door slamming echoed throughout the flat.  
   
Lestrade patted John on the shoulder, “That went well. Fancy a drink?”  
   
John glared at the now closed door, “Can’t you just arrest him?”  
   
Lestrade chuckled, “Nope. He would be killed in an hour flat. Don’t want that paperwork. Come on. Buy you a pint, and then you can call Mary. I am sure she had better luck than us. /She/ at least is having a conversation with grownups. Not a tall toddler.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like this. Comments and such would be lovely.


End file.
